These past 40 days, I’ve seen places I’ve dreamed of since childhood, with a partner I could never have dreamed of at the time, while reconnecting with fantastic friends from various stages of the latter half of my life. I fully recognize that most people don’t get to do all, if any, of those things, especially not in the context of leaving home and travelling for 40 days. I’ve thrown out the word “blessed” a few times on this blog, but it definitely seems like the most appropriate.

Dating back to the 4th century BC, Ostia was Rome’s seaport, though thousands of years now sees it three kilometres from the sea. It has several well preserved frescoes, some huge black-and-white museums, a theatre, and an impressive sculpture museum within its huge, huge, hot, unshaded grounds.

While we were stopped at the first border checkpoint, my driver showed me the border line on the regular road via some app. It was substantial. I asked him for an approximate time of arrival at the airport, which he responded with “one”. Language was definitely a barrier, so I didn’t have much choice but to sit back and see if we’d get there in an hour, with me making my flight, or at 1 pm, at which point, I’m scrambling.

The hostel told us about a way around, a switchback path next to the city that allows you to climb next to the walls, leading up to a window that you can climb through and BOOM, you’re on the walls. The walk up features cats, goats, other hikers and a cheese house that I didn’t stop at because I wanted to catch the sunset. And what a sunset!

So out of the tours I saw going around today, all of them were talking about Game of Thrones and not once did I hear a guide talk about the history of the city itself. Pop culture has transcended actual culture here.

So, we went back to the Platform Believed To Be Seven, and I was frantically looking and hoping for any indication that the broken-looking train was leaving. Some kind of a sign, either physically or metaphorically.

For the “Rick and Morty” fans out here, the Citadel reminded me of the episode where an Evil Rick was kidnapping Mortys and using their inferior brainwaves to hide his superior brainwaves. I know Daina is a great photographer, and I consider myself a pretty good one, but here, it’s drowned out by all the bad photography that surrounds you. Part of that bad photography was pictures of us.

We got off of the Go Bus in “downtown” Hurghada, did a rough negotiation for a cab (first guy wanted 100 LE each, we found a guy for 30 LE total), and now we’re at an all-inclusive resort in Egypt.
I know, not what you would expect.

It was at this point that friends of mine may have read a “Hey, LOL, police escort just taking us out of Abydos with masks on, OMG” type post on my Facebook, because even though I was pretty sure nothing was happening, I wanted there to be some kind of digital record.

Figuring that we’d want to spend a couple of days on the West Bank sites, and having heard that Luxor is the Hassle Capital of Egypt and that not of that takes place in the East Bank, I figured a 9.4 rated guesthouse on the West with a pool would be a solid bet.
…
We are REALLY far away from everything.

At this point, I got a bit loud and, in my best kindergarten voice said “NO! That is NOT how you do things! You do NOT push me! Good-bye!” Which shut him up for almost a minute before he went back to trying to sell me something as I was across the parking lot.

Gebel el-Silsila isn’t going to be overrun by tourists any time soon, mostly due to the fact that the bigger boats aren’t allowed to dock anywhere near it, so the ability to flexible was appreciated and a bit of a given.

We arrived at Abu Simbel at 6:45 am and, already, the sun was baking the ground, coming in at what felt like the mid-thirties. There’s zero shade outside, and you immediately sweat as you pass over a hill to see the temple. You can understand why you wouldn’t be there midday, as it would just be too damn hot.

I had readied myself for Philae ahead of time, having read that the ferry negotiation was intense, the guards and caretakers would aggressively follow you or try to photobomb your shots for tips, and that there was quite a bit of hassle at the temple.
Well, ferry price came in at cheaper than Kalbasha, guards were nice and asked us where we were from before leaving us alone, caretakers asked if we wanted to take pictures of them, but nothing nearly as intense as what I had heard.

Soon after, another guy comes up to us and tries the same shtick, following us until I literally see people walking into the mosque and say “Oh look, it’s open”, at which point he says “It’s open! After, do you want some spices? Backgammon board? Anything you need!” Worst attempted save of a hustle ever.